


Housecalls

by SuburbanSun



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, F/M, Family Dinners, Post-Canon, ToT: Chocolate Box, Trick or Treat 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8412034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: It’s Christmas Eve in Hawkins, and everybody should have someplace to go.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ardentaislinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/gifts).



> Takes place directly following the last scene of 1x08. Happy ToT!

When he pulled up to the house, he killed the engine, but didn’t get out of the car, just tapped his thumbs anxiously against the cracked leather of the steering wheel. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

But he _had_ come, and anyway, it was only natural to want to check in on them. Make sure Will was doing okay.

He grabbed the red tin from the passenger seat, climbed out of the car and made for the door. He adjusted his hat and knocked twice.

When the door swung upon, she looked softer than he’d ever seen her before. Happy.

“Hop!” She grinned up at him, a hint of surprise on her face. “Did I know you were coming by?”

“No, sorry, I was just in the area and--” He looked past her into the house, belatedly noticing the spread on the kitchen table, the boys peering up at him from their seats. Will gave a little wave, and he waved back. “Sorry, I’m interrupting, aren’t I? You were having dinner.”

“No, it’s alright!” Joyce stepped back and gestured toward the living room. “You must be freezing; come in, come in.”

He took off his hat and held it at his side, looking around the cozy house. He gave a low whistle as he took it all in. “This place sure looks different than last time I was here.”

Joyce chuckled and shrugged one shoulder, a light flush blooming on her cheeks. “It took me and the boys awhile to get it all straightened up, but… we managed.” She looked back up at him. “It could still use a little work.”

He smiled at her, his fingers itching to reach out and squeeze her arm reassuringly (or something like that), but his hands were full. Which reminded him.

“Oh--” he said, holding up the tin in his hand. “I brought you this. Some cookies.” She took the tin from him and opened it, sniffing the contents. “I didn’t bake ‘em or anything; they’re from the station, but I figured the boys liked sweets, right?”

“Thanks, Hop,” she said, and her eyes were soft, like his gesture meant more than the sum of its parts. Since everything that had happened, they’d only seen each other a few times, mostly on official business. He’d found himself wanting to make excuses to come by, or to stop into the General Store, but the tin of cookies marked the first time he’d actually followed through on one of those impulses.

He jerked a thumb toward the door, already starting to shuffle backward. “I should probably-- you all are having dinner, and I didn’t mean to get in the way.”

“No, no, it’s fine! Um--” She steepled her fingers at her mouth and peeked back into the kitchen. He thought he caught a meaningful exchange of glances between Joyce and Jonathan, but he couldn’t quite decipher it, and anyway, he didn’t want to intrude. She turned back to him and let her hands drop to her sides. “Stay for dinner. There’s plenty-- it’s not gourmet, or anything, but…”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; of course you can.”

“I should really--”

Joyce cocked an eyebrow, pinned him with a look. “Go home? By yourself? It’s Christmas Eve.” She nodded to the tin of cookies she’d set down on an end table. “And you brought dessert.”

He looked at the boys again, took in the glow of the kitchen, of a family put back together, and then back at the way Joyce was watching him with hope in her eyes, and well, he didn’t really have a choice, did he?

“Alright, alright,” he said, starting to shrug out of his jacket. “You twisted my arm.”

With a grin, she took him by the elbow and tugged him into her kitchen. He and Jonathan nodded to each other as Joyce set him up with a plate at the empty spot at the table, and Will started chatting animatedly about some kind of video game he couldn’t wait to play.

“Hop, you like gravy?” Joyce asked after she’d sat back down. She held up the ceramic gravy boat, and he took it, his fingers barely brushing against hers.

“I love it,” he said.

He drowned his potatoes in gravy and took a big bite out of a roll, feeling warmer than he had all winter long.


End file.
